


Dear Spock

by cembular



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: A Bit Cliche, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cheesy, Classical Music, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Hurt Jim, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Music, M/M, Memory Loss, Music, Post TSFS, Rachmaninoff, References of Death, Rhapsody on a Theme by Paganini, Sad, Sad with a Happy Ending, Valentine's Day, not sorry, old married spirk, oms, references to TMP, references to TWOK, sorry - Freeform, spirk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 14:14:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6010587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cembular/pseuds/cembular
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A valentines day fic that takes place after The Search for spock</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dear Spock

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's Day
> 
> This fic is the product of not writing anything for months and months and struggling with my muse and things for months and months. I thought it was important to update though, and what better time than Valentine's Day when everyone is looking for something sweet to read......
> 
> The fic was inspired by the song Rhapsody on a Theme by Paganini the 18th variation which you can listen [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xt1TrYRAnzQ) . It's referenced quite alot so if you want to take a listen I strongly encourage it as it really drove this fic! 
> 
> Thank you to Plaidshirtjimkirk who was very supportive to me in my struggle to write, as well stayed up until like 5 in the morning reading and betaing this fic! Thank you friend! Plaidshirtjimkirk is working on some amazing stuff as well so check out her stuff [here](http://archiveofourown.org/users/plaidshirtjimkirk/pseuds/plaidshirtjimkirk) . Check out my personal favourite Paths in the Starlight :) <3 
> 
> The doodle attached to this fic is my own personal work I made. I got really sentimental over some of the themes in this fic. It's a bit rough, and this is my first doodle I've ever contributed to the fandom so I'm a bit nervous. I don't have any crazy art programs or art history, so there's no pressure to comment about it at all. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading! <3 I hope you all enjoy <3
> 
> Live Long and Prosper!

_**Dear Spock** _

 

 _‘Why is it that you always seem to leave me?_ ’ Jim wondered to himself quietly in the dimly lit room, his eyes straining at the shadows being cast upon the wall from the setting sun.

Why was it that Spock always managed to leave Jim like this? Heartbroken, empty, lonely, reaching and reaching for him mentally and physically with nothing to receive in return? There had been the incident where Spock had escaped to Gol, and Jim remained on Earth stargazing nearly every night to think about what Spock was doing, or thinking—whether he thought of him or whether he had forgotten about him entirely.  

When Spock had returned, things had gone horribly wrong shortly after again. Jim remembered his hand pressed to the glass separating himself from his lover, as he watched the life escape from him. Their bond, severed. Jim’s soul, aching. After Spock’s death, it was as if Jim could feel the phantom limb of what once had been there. As if Jim was constantly reaching and reaching for something on Spock’s end of the bond, and every time he had tried, he had been unsuccessful. Spock had been gone, and Jim had been lonely, heartbroken, and empty.  

And now, Spock was alive, he was here, in the very building Jim was in, and yet—there had always been a _and yet_ —Spock could not remember who and what they were. Their bond, though mangled and distraught, existed but not as it once had.

 _‘I know this is difficult for you, Captain.’_ Sarek had consoled Jim as Spock took his leave his former group of friends after his katra had been returned. ‘ _It is difficult to lose a bondmate in such a tragic way. I sympathize with you. And though the bond still remains in its dissolved state, I urge you not to engage with it. Allow Spock, when the time comes, if the time permits, to make the first move. His mind is tender, and his katra weak. It would be unwise to transfer images and sentiments he knows nothing about.”_

Sarek had a point, and Jim understood it very well. After waiting so long without his lover’s mind to console his in times of grief and hardship, it was all too tempting to reach over to Spock’s side of the bond and simply linger there, just to feel what Spock’s mind felt like again. To look and not touch was maddening.

“ _Why,”_ Jim whispered to himself, hiding his face in his hands.

It wasn’t often that Jim got too emotional. Over the years, he had acquired quite the knack for shielding his raging emotions behind a confident and charming exterior. It was one that was easy to deceive his enemies if necessary, and one that allowed his crew to trust in his every command regardless of circumstances.

The skill had only grown with the presence of Spock, and that thought alone caused his heart to throb and ache painfully in his chest.

“I miss you so much,” he whispered as he looked over the desk to the PADD he had left on with a photo of Spock and himself the evening of their bonding.

Spock was tall, his long elegant robe making him look somehow even more thin and exquisite than he usually did. Jim stood beside him, his arm tightly wrapped around Spock’s waist, the biggest smile plastered over his face, and Jim was convinced by viewing it alone that he had never been happier in his entire life than that day. The day he could call Spock his own.

His mind gently wandered as his eyes did the same, looking out across the room to the large Vulcan sun preparing to set itself far into the distance, overtop of large rock formations on the horizon.

He remembered doing so much with Spock, and remembered how every memory he had with him made his love for him grow and grow until he was certain it could not augment any further.

He felt cold air brush across the small damp spot beneath his eye as he stood before the open window with his hands loosely folded behind his back. He recalled a moment in particular with great detail, one where he had been convinced was the first time he fell in love with Spock.

 _“The time we were locked in between decks four and five in the lift. We had been locked in there for nearly two and a half hours before help could finally reactivate the unit and release us onto the fifth deck.”_ It had been over two hours of looking into the eyes he had dreamt about nearly every night before. He remembered being so close to Spock, and yet wanting to get even closer.

Had that been the moment? Or was it when he and Spock kissed the first time in the Botany room, their fingers stroking each other’s palms with excitement. It could very well have been the moment when Jim had seen Spock on the bridge that he fell in love. His heart certainly was pounding hard enough then, and he remembered being at a loss of words when he watched his science officer salute him the first time.

It could have been any of these moments that had convinced Jim that there was no one else in the entire galaxy for him beside Spock. But it only served to prove Jim that there had never been one moment that he fell in love with Spock. It was happening on a continual basis again and again.

Forever.

Even though he knew with everything he had that Spock still meant the world to him, and that if he had not been forced to sacrifice himself in such a way for his crew, Jim would have done the same. But Jim felt almost angry at him. So angry at what had happened. He felt his hands clench in bitter fists wondering to himself what he had deserved to miss out on Spock’s love yet again? What had permitted life to twist their fate in so many different directions?

_“Why would you do this to me? Why would you sacrifice yourself and leave me behind like that? Why would you leave me when we returned to Earth? Why didn’t you put your katra in me, why can’t you remember who we were when you look into my eyes, and why can’t you piece together that we share a bond that’s stronger than anything you have ever had with anybody else? I am your captain, your best friend, your husband and I love you more than anybody in the universe could! So why do you keep calling me admiral, when you should be calling me by my name as you always have ?”_

Jim was surprised that he had held off the tears he wanted to spill as his mind slowly simmered. He was surprised that when he heard a knock at the door, he was able to raise his chin up and call to the person to allow them to enter into the room. His eyes however did not leave the setting sun falling closer and closer to the horizon line.  

Soon enough he felt McCoy’s hand on his shoulder, somehow knowing it was him before he ever spoke.

“How are you feeling?” The doctor asked softly, causing Jim’s chin to rise once again to put on a strong and controlled front as he always had.

“Fine,” Jim replied, a heavy sigh escaping him. “How are you holding up?” He turned to look at McCoy, who looked like hell to say the least.

It was understandable to see the bags under the doctor’s eyes. His already graying hair looked somehow even whiter as he griped to himself softly. It was a draining experience to carry the soul of a friend halfway across the galaxy to return him to his lifeless body--especially when Jim considered the type of friends McCoy and Spock had always been. He could only imagine the conflict McCoy had felt throughout the trip. The back and forth no doubt wracked his brain as he was ping ponged between his southern moodiness and the irritating logic of their first officer.

“That migraine’s nearly gone now I think,” McCoy answered, holding his head with his left hand. He watched the serene view outside the window alongside Jim for a long moment, neither one speaking.

The sun reached the peaks of the mountains, and Jim marvelled silently at the warm colours that rippled across the entire sky. It reminded him of Iowa when he would take his bike out onto the dirt roads around their house, find a large field and lie of his back to grasp the enormity of the sky. All he could see in that position was blue with soft brush strokes for clouds. And when Jim saw the creeping signs of sunset—the purples, reds, and oranges—he raced back home, making it through the front door just before their outdoor lamps activated in the night.

And as he watched the sky quickly transform into night, he saw the twinkle of stars slowly peering through the thin atmosphere of Vulcan, and reminded himself of sleeplessly sitting on his balcony years ago, watching the stars in wonder of what Spock was doing light years away in Gol without him.

…Again.

“I don’t understand,” Jim mumbled finally, turning to look away from the scene before him. As he stepped away, he felt McCoy turn after him, both of them moving toward the desk.

“What don’t you understand?” McCoy asked, his demeanor much more calmed and relaxed now that the climax of their adventure had passed.

Jim shook his head, leaning against his hand in thought. “With Spock. After we leave here, he’s still going to forget me, and we’re going to go back to Earth to face our life sentence.” _Yet again, failing to have one another to have and to hold..._

“Jim,” McCoy sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed situated on Jim’s right. “I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you.”

“It’s a small price to pay to have him alive,” Jim furthered, turning to look away from McCoy again. “But I can’t help but miss him.” He sighed, shaking his head regretfully.

“Jim, you can’t beat yourself up over this. Spock might not have lost his memories forever, and if he did, he’ll remember the man you were today that he seen. Courageous, selfless, brave…”

Jim shook his head, looking back toward the window. “Just words.”

Nothing McCoy could say could convince Jim otherwise, and McCoy knew this. The room became darker as the sun disappeared from the sky and all McCoy could do was sit and watch the silhouette of Jim standing before the window.

The door opened once again, only this time it was Uhura who stood there, her hands folded in front of herself peacefully. She stood there a long moment, absorbing the misery of the room, seeing the dark outline of Jim’s body in front of the starry landscape behind him.

“It’s time to eat, gentlemen,” she whispered, her strong voice sounding soft in the darkness. It reminded Jim of the days back on the Enterprise when he and Uhura were side by side, relaying messages through one another. She had been such a welcoming presence, such a sturdy rock to hold to when the tides were strong.

However, Jim was so far beyond being able to salvage himself by holding on. He was already miles gone.

McCoy stood from the bed, wobbling slightly from his light-headedness. He caught himself before walking to Uhura’s side.

“Are you coming, Admiral?” she asked, Jim’s body still facing the cool breeze outside.

“You go on without me. There’s something I need to finish up here.” And Jim felt a rush of himself for a moment, enough self-control to turn to Uhura and McCoy and offer them a reassuring smile.

When the door gently closed at last, Jim sighed in the darkness, as he knelt in front of the window, leaning in to view the stars at a better angle, relying on them to rid him of the pain he felt in his chest.

 _“That is the constellation Lo’uk’rala. It translates roughly into your Standard as ‘Great Wings_ ’, _if I am not mistaken,”_ Spock had said on the second night following their bonding. Jim remembered the moment so clearly in his mind. They decided to go stargazing for the first time as a married couple, and together they counted shooting stars until Jim fell asleep with his head resting against Spock’s shoulder.

He remembered asking Spock to repeat the names of the constellations as though he couldn’t hear him the first time, only so he could hear Spock speaking in his native tongue over and over. As he looked out the window he replayed those words again and again.

Suddenly he heard a plucking noise from outside his room. Jim lifted his head curiously, listening to the plucking intensify. Jim could not deny the sound, as he knew it was the sound of a Vulcan lyre being tampered with. He had fiddled enough with Spock’s to know how it sounded.

As he stood, he heard the notes clearer, and Jim hurried into the hall, carefully following the pitiful noises until he turned the corner at the end of the hall, and he saw Amanda’s figure standing in the doorway of one of the rooms on the right side of the corridor.

Jim approached quietly, coming behind Amanda and peeking inside the room, already certain of what he was about to see.

Sarek sat on a long wooden bench beside his son, guiding his fingers over the Lyre gently.

“Like this, Spock,” Sarek said as he showed Spock the expert way to accomplish the rhythm he was expected.

Sarek’s hands pulled back, leaving Spock to his own devices.

There was a long pause, Amanda’s hands tightening on the door frame eagerly waiting for her son’s turn.

Spock hesitantly approached one of the strings, plucking too hard to create the soft, unique tone he was meant to.

Amanda’s hands released the frame, looking over at Jim finally. She smirked gently, even in the face of Spock’s failed attempt.

As Sarek directed Spock one last time, Amanda decided to lean in closer to Jim. “How are you feeling, Jim?”

He straightened his back out, watching Spock with large, needy eyes. It was still almost shocking to see Spock like this, so alive, so different from the man he had left in the radiation chamber that had consumed him.

“I feel…” Jim paused a moment again, watching with surreal fascination at Spock’s failed attempts at the Lyre. He silently encouraged him, cheering Spock on as he watched the elegant fingers search the chords he was supposed to strum.

Finally, he had found the correct one, and performed the note with perfect clarity for all to hear.

Spock’s head lifted, looking over at his father. His brow lifted mirroring the gesture he had done so many times in front of Jim.

“I feel, great.”

Suddenly, Jim and Spock’s eyes met, causing Jim’s heart to plummet into his stomach. He still could not wipe the look of pride he wore passionately on his face. And even though he turned to look away from Spock, he still felt pangs of joy in what Spock had accomplished.

Amanda turned with him.

“How is he doing?” Jim asked, looking over at Amanda as though what she was about to say was the meaning of his whole existence.

Her eyes sparkled with a similar sensation of relief and grief that Jim was experiencing. “He’s showing promising signs. But nothing significant has come back to him in full.” Her smile faded as Jim’s had, her heart shattering along with his into a thousand pieces scattered beyond repair. “I’m sorry, Jim.”

Jim lifted his chin, smiling softly at her. “Sometimes, the needs of the one outweigh the needs of the others.”

The smile returned to her as she bowed her head. “Sometimes,” she agreed just as Sarek left the room he had been in, and looked over to Jim with a blank expression.

“He has made little progress this night,” Sarek explained, “However, this is the second evening of his condition. He has much to learn and recall in the upcoming days.”

“So he can still relearn the things of his past?” Jim asked, pushing his hands into his pockets.

“He most certainly can. Memories may slowly return to him, however they will not resurface with no provocation. It will require time, and for him to come to terms with his past and himself on his own,” Sarek spoke, reaching two fingers forward to his wife.“I apologize, Captain, but it is quite late and I must seek meditation.”

“Of course,” Jim replied with a slight nod.

“Remember what I informed you earlier. You are not to interact with the marital bond you both created. You must not pressure him into recalling more than he is capable of processing. He will remember, but he will remember on his own terms.”

Jim bowed his head with sadness and understanding.

“However, I believe it would be wise for you to speak with him,” Sarek suggested.

Jim’s heart began to beat heavily again, his breathing increasing also. He wasn’t sure how badly he desired to go in and see Spock. Yes, he wanted to be at Spock’s side and to be there whether it was as a lover or a friend, and to help Spock learn and discover. However, the emotional toll it would have on him to act as though nothing had ever existed was difficult to consider.

_The needs of the one outweigh the needs of the…_

“Yes,” Jim spoke surely, with so much hesitancy behind those words. He darted his eyes away from Sarek and Amanda’s.

“We’ll leave you to it,” Amanda whispered sweetly. “Good night, Jim.”

“Good night.” Jim bowed his head, and waited as Amanda and Sarek ventured to the end of the hall, promptly turning right and disappearing from his vision and mind for the time being.

He redirected his attention, taking in three deep breaths before stepping into the room slowly.

Spock sat quietly on the bench, lightly strumming the notes he had just relearned. He looked like a piece of art, sculpted there. If Jim could, he’d photograph the moment, and document it forever in the pages of his scrapbook with all the pictures of Spock and himself over the years.

Jim was so consumed with his own thoughts regarding how handsome Spock appeared, he didn’t realize Spock had greeted him with his eyes, allowing him to come further into the room.

“Admiral,” Spock acknowledged finally as Jim stood before him. Jim’s fingers fidgeted at his sides.

It felt like a knife turning clockwise against his internal organs, reminding him of the first name basis he had lost with Spock. The relationship dwindled before it could truly begin.

He looked down at the Lyre sitting in his lover’s lap, and he nodded his head to the tempo of the song playing in his head. It was the song Spock had once known Jim favoured most of all; he’d played it often because of this.

“Are you having trouble remembering how to play?” Jim asked gently, touching the instrument softly, caressing it like he used to against the pointed ends of Spock’s ears.

Spock looked away regretfully, setting the instrument down beside him. He looked up at Jim again, and tilted his head to the right, looking as though he were searching for something.

Jim tilted his head along with Spock’s, reading the intense expression on his lover’s face, and he wondered a moment if Spock had remembered something of substance regarding their relationship. Had he remembered the way they looked into one another’s eyes like this before going to sleep some nights? How they had looked at one another the moment their minds had merged for the first time?

Both of Spock’s brows furrowed, and his eyes rushed away from Jim’s anxiously. It was clear that whatever had crossed Spock’s mind was not something he wished to investigate further, and though part of Jim was screaming and fighting to be noticed and heard, Jim calmly accepted this. He knew Spock was not himself, and as he watched the distressed expression on his bondmate’s face, he felt sadness for being unable to assist him like a bondmate should.

Spock plucked one of the strings to alleviate the tension in the room. Once it filled the space,  sounding somewhat ominous to Jim as he watched such a desperate attempt to avoid the _awkwardness_ that had never existed between them before, Spock placed his hand over the strings to silence them again. Their eyes met.

“You used to be really good at playing the Lyre,” Jim informed, sitting on the bench next to Spock, pushing all personal feelings to the side for a moment, enjoying the simple presence of Spock. “It’s an old Earth saying that certain things are like riding a bike… you never forget,” Jim explained, watching as Spock looked over at him with concern.

“Did I possess the skill to ride a bicycle, Admiral?” Spock asked, tilting his head again.

Jim chuckled gently to himself, looking at Spock with half lidded eyes. “No, I don’t believe you ever did. But you did have this one.” Jim motioned the lyre with his hand. “You played it very well in fact. And you played lots of other instruments as well. Like the piano for example.” Jim looked around the room at all the various instruments stored tightly together. In the far corner his eyes caught site of an old Terran piano.

Jim darted his attention back to Spock, a sincere look of adoration coming over his features softly. “You used to love playing music, listening to music, creating music.” Jim swallowed briskly, letting his muscles relax. “And when you love something that much, Spock, you never forget it completely.”

Spock watched Jim, his eyes becoming much more forgiving than they had been earlier. Jim could see his body relax, and Jim felt the need to clutch his partner’s knee as an attempt to calm him. But he held back, not wanting to alarm Spock in his somewhat delirious state.

A flicker went off between them through the bond, causing Jim’s body to freeze.

Jim could feel the curious presence of Spock’s mind against his own. It had been brief, barely noticeable if he had not been waiting for it so intensely. But from what he had gathered from the brief encounter was how different Spock’s mind felt from how it had in the past.

It almost shocked Jim. Their link had once been so lively, so intense with emotion and understanding. All of that fulfillment had been gone, all that understanding completely thrown out the window.

However, the only thing that kept Jim’s heart intact was the curious nature Spock still possessed. How even in the chaos of his life, he still found it important to reach for Jim, even if it were only for a moment. Feeling Spock’s end of the bond creeping around his own cautiously, it felt absolutely incredible.

“You believe I can play again,” Spock affirmed, his mind pulling back incredibly fast, his hands folding in his lap.

“No,” Jim sighed, “I _know_ you will play again.”

Spock raised his chin, watching Jim, still reading him with caution.

It took everything inside Jim not to kiss Spock, not to touch him or remind him that he was his husband, that they had a bond and a life together. That he knew every detail of his body, and knew secrets about him that Spock would never dare have another person know.

“Here,” Jim stood after gazing a moment too long into Spock’s dark eyes. He motioned for Spock to follow him to the piano. “Come here.” He patted the spot on the set softly,his eyes inviting Spock with comfort and consolation.

The look resonated with Spock a moment as he peered across the room at the gaze of a man who so desperately wanted his love in return--a man who had lost his son and ship and life in the risk to save that of his lover’s. However, these were sacrifices that Spock could not understand the full weight of at the current time.

Spock’s eyes dropped to Jim’s hand on top of the cushiony seat pulled up close to the piano. Soon, Jim felt a great deal of relief as he watched Spock stand from his place on the bench, and cautiously make his way over to Jim’s side.

He stood to the right of the seat for a few long moments, their eyes simply gazing into one another until Jim finally broke contact, looking through the piles of sheet music.

There were many things in this universe that Jim knew, and many talents he could admit he had. One of his most admirable qualities was pertaining to his ability to stay calm and collected under certain circumstances, and another being his ability to make quick and ingenious decisions under pressure. However, music was not one part of his skillset.

He did not understand the process of reading sheet music all too well, but he knew enough from the large collection Spock owned back on Earth, to know what was simple to play and what was more complicated.

In the midst of Jim’s intense struggle to find the perfect piece, Jim heard Spock speak again, softly just as a reminder of all the times he had whispered in his ear.

“You enjoy music, Admiral?” Spock asked, watching as Jim retrieved a stack of Earth music sheets from another pile. It was clear that Amanda had brought her own compilations for Spock’s rehabilitation.

“I do.” Jim smiled, handing Spock some of the music for him to glance through, hoping that perhaps some of the titles or melodies would become familiar upon inspection.

“Do you play a musical instrument such as this one?” Spock asked, a peak of interest in his voice as he watched Jim with an attentive tilt of his head.

Jim smiled down at the papers in his hands, his eyes closing softly with hurt.

If Spock could only remember the amount of times Jim had picked up the Lyre in an attempt to learn to play, only to abandon it in a fit of rage. He had truly loved the art of classical music and could listen to it for hours upon hours, motionlessly doing nothing. And yet, he did not possess the patience to sit and learn with an instrument in hand, trying and retrying the same motions to try and get it right.

“No,” he admitted, looking over at Spock longingly, memories of Spock playing beautiful music coming back to him in waves. “But I loved hearing you play.”

Spock took a silent breath in and held it there for a moment, letting it out softly through his nose.

Jim tried hard to control his own breaths as he watched Spock’s eyes scan his own. And for a moment, Jim felt Spock’s mind curiously approach his own, wanting to touch it but almost fearing it like he was going to be burned if he got to close.

_“And though the bond still remains in its dissolved state, I urge you not to engage with it. Allow Spock, when the time comes, if the time permits, to make the first move. His mind is tender, and his katra weak. It would be unwise to transfer images and sentiments he knows nothing about.”_

Jim sighed, holding back the urge to go against Sarek’s words and to reach out for Spock’s consciousness.

There was a curious prodding against the walls of Jim’s mind, as though Spock was gaining an understanding of all the things that had once blossomed there.

And then suddenly, Spock pulled back.

His fingers moved through the sheet music carefully pulling out pieces and then placing them again into the pile. Jim felt all the previous hope he had for Spock merging their minds gone as he listened to the awkward shuffling of papers.

The silence nipped away at Jim’s heart strings and he couldn’t help but let his fingers anxiously shuffle in his lap, biting his tongue not to say the wrong thing.

“Do you remember how you used to play for me?” Jim asked softly. He wouldn’t push Spock to reply, but he saw no harm in gently encouraging him to answer the questions he so desperately needed to hear.

Spock’s gaze darted to Jim’s almost as though he had known what to say. Jim could see the way Spock scoured his mind for the memories he’d been urging him to recall, and when his search was inconclusive, he gave Jim a look of almost panic coiled in a reserved expression.

That had answered it for Jim.

Spock looked down at his hands, holding a thick stack of sheet music tightly. He gently bit down on his bottom lip, a gesture made when he was uncertain.       

Before Jim had the opportunity to apologize or switch the subject, Spock was speaking once again.

“The crew you have brought here with you, they are your friends,” Spock inferred, lifting a brow.

“Yes, they’re my friends. And yours too,” Jim explained gently, trying not to sound stern in any way that would give the impression that Spock was expected to remember.

Spock nodded slightly in understanding. “I have spoken to them. One has explained very much to me regarding you,” Spock whispered, his fingers tightening around the papers in his hands.

Jim cleared his voice, folding his hands politely in his lap. He contemplated Spock’s next words, already knowing what Spock was about to say, and he wasn’t certain why, but his heart began to ache immensely.

“They told me…” Spock struggled to say, pausing to clear his throat quietly before continuing. “We were quite close, from my understanding.”

The air was somehow thicker, and Jim struggled to take a complete breath in. He felt himself choking on it for a moment until he swallowed and pushed the lump in his throat down.

“We were close,” Jim replied solemnly in a low tone as he felt Spock’s mind acknowledge him again.

Silence fell upon them again, and Jim could see the way Spock pulled back again uncomfortably, the music in his hands lying flat against his lap. Jim could see the hesitancy in his eyes, and it made him realize just how hard the journey was for Spock…

It was then that Jim stepped back a minute to realize that he was not the only one afraid and alone at this time, that Spock had been completely thrown off track. Though Jim had lost the purpose and drive in his life, he still had memories of their love to comfort him. He still had family and friends to remind him of that love…and he still had Spock. And though Jim still did not enjoy the situation he was in, he felt lucky to remember the faces of those around him.

Spock would perhaps never remember who they had been to him in another life, and the plans they had made together for their futures. But Jim could still recall those memories when he needed them, and dream of them at night when he so desperately wanted to.

“Did you pick a piece to try to play?” Jim asked, looking down at the papers in Spock’s fingers.

“I have,” Spock replied, peering down at the pages briefly and then straightening them out properly.

“That was fast.” Jim smiled, running his hands comfortingly over Spock’s shoulder before retreating down to his side. “What piece did you pick?”

Spock closed his eyes, setting the sheets where they belonged in front of the piano.

“It is a piece composed by Rachmaninoff. The Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, Op. 43 Variation 18. Spock read off, placing his fingers over the keys.  

Jim felt his heart plummet into his stomach, hands clenching into anxious fists as he thought about the title Spock had just relayed to him.

“Yes, Spock. Please play that one,” Jim whispered, and the slow, sentimental notes began, arousing something wistful and painful within Jim.

It had been Valentine’s Day, four years ago when Jim had heard Spock play this particular song for the first time. They had gathered with friends and coworkers in Starfleet to celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of Admiral Williams and his wife Lieutenant Williams. The night had begun with a charming meal with music and conversation, and as it went on, suddenly the brandy had become much more interesting than the civil conversations. Jim and Spock managed to slip out into the hall undetected and completely sober.

After deciding to take a long relaxing walk throughout the expensive halls, they finally stopped at a small, empty banquet hall that Starfleet used as a resting place for visitors of other worlds and as opportunity for them to mingle. In the far corner sat a large, extravagant white piano.

 _“I want you to play,”_ Jim had said that day, pulling Spock over to the large instrument. He placed his cocktail on the edge of it so that he could lean against it as Spock sat himself in position as though he were ready to play.

“ _We do not have permission to utilize this instrument.”_

_“Spock, there’s nothing I would want more than to hear you play a private concert for me here. I want to hear you play.”_

Though Jim knew Spock had a fantastic musical ability, he had never heard Spock play the piano for him… _just_ for him. And so as Jim remembered the first moment Spock’s fingers touched those keys, and he began to play, he felt the notes of that song slowly merge into the one he was hearing now.

Spock had told Jim that this song in particular had been his favourite Earth piece to play and listen to. And after he had played the piece flawlessly that day in the banquet hall, Jim had felt a lump in his throat as the music had affected him so deeply, and he felt his love for Spock spark like he had never experienced before.

 _“Thank you.”_ He recalled saying as he sat on the bench next to his husband, and their lips met gently for a moment…

But it had all been a memory. Just a memory.

As Spock played the same song before him now, Jim felt the stinging sensation of tears building once again, and he tried hard to push those feelings aside.

But to hear this song in particular at such a moment was difficult for him. Jim had requested it every moment he could when Spock was seated at a piano, and they were alone. It had almost been a song of their love, helping Jim cope with the hurt that had at one time existed in their relationship when Spock had left him. As well, it had been some of the most beautiful, atmospheric pieces he had ever experienced in his life, and it made him proud to know that Spock, by the third request Jim had made, had the song completely committed to memory.  

A memory Spock would never again have. A memory only Jim could hope to remind Spock.

Spock’s fingers froze above the keys, and he struggled a moment to find the next ones. Eventually, his fingers dropped to his lap, and he turned his gaze to Jim with disappointment. “That is all I remember.”

It took a moment for those words to sink in for Jim. When the message finally became clear for him, he felt his heart beat uncontrollably fast. It felt just like the moment Spock had remembered Jim’s name after the transferring of his katra back to where it belonged.

As Jim looked back at the sheet music, he realized they had been turned on their side, the papers completely out of order.

“You…” Jim stuttered a moment before clearing his throat. His eyes were wide and watching Spock  with absolute amazement at what he had just seen, “You played all that from memory?”

Spock’s eyes were equally as dazed as Jim’s were. He raised his brow slowly as he acknowledge the facts. “It would appear you were correct in your earlier statement.”

Jim felt his eyes becoming glossy, biting his lip momentarily to stop himself from grinning any further. “When you love something enough, you never truly forget.”

Spock’s finger reached out to Jim’s face, and though for a moment Jim felt relief for the possibility of feeling Spock’s mind meld with his for the first time in a very long time, he was equally as relieved when Spock’s thumb simply wiped away some of the wetness from beneath Jim’s left eye.

“I would like to play the song for you again. But it may take some practice,” Spock whispered, bringing his hands over top of the piano again.

“And I want to hear you practice, if that’s alright, Mister Spock.”

Spock bowed his head respectfully, and began to play again.

As Spock played the song Jim sat by his side for the entire first round. By Spock’s second attempt Jim was standing at Spock’s side almost envisioning the notes dancing around them gracefully. Then as Spock played for the third time, Jim paced the room, adoring every note with his eyes gently shut. By the fourth round, he returned to the piano, where he took the one sided sheet music from where they were sitting in front of Spock’s face.

“Do you wish for me to stop?” Spock asked as he watched Jim take the papers to a nearby table.

“No. I want you to play until you get it,” Jim replied, finding a pen in the mess of desk supplies scattered across the table he was seated at. “Please keep playing.”

The music began again, and Jim turned over the sheet music, thinking back to all the memories he had shared with Spock with this particular song and how Spock could not remember any of them. And yet… there was always hope, and possibilities with Spock, and his memory of their song was proof that he was capable of remembering again.

Spock, perhaps, would never remember what they had ever again, but nothing would stop Jim from telling or reminding him. And if they could love each other one day again, he would have no problem reminding Spock of these memories every day.

Suddenly, Spock started the song again. However, this time was much different. This time, the notes seemed to mesh better, the pace seemed right, and as Spock approached the climax of the piece, Jim felt relieved to hear the notes they had both been waiting to hear the entire night. Finally, Spock had remembered, and Jim felt absolute happiness.

Spock continued to play, and even though he had already figured out the tune and had played it correctly, Spock savoured the feeling of having accomplished and retrieved that much more of his disposed memories. As well, he savoured the feeling of Jim’s pride in him for having remembered.

As Jim listened and watched, recalling all the memories that accompanied the song which would be forever forgotten to Spock… a new thought dawned on him. He stared down at the blank sides of the sheet music in front of him, then picked up his pen and decided on what he must do.

And Jim began to write as Spock created his beautiful rendition of Rachminoff.

_‘Dear Spock…’_

-

**Twenty Years Later**

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” Jim smiled, over the empty plates before them. He held Spock’s hand below the table, trailing his thumb over his husband’s romantically.

Spock lifted his brow with fascination as Jim leaned across the table and kissed him gently on the lips.

“You know that I do not particularly favour this holiday you humans insist on celebrating throughout the centuries.” Spock smirked as he took the plates from the table. “However, an opportunity to spend an evening such as this together is most certainly pleasing.”

Jim’s eyes followed Spock as he too stood to clear what was left on the table. As they cleaned the mess, Jim retrieved the half empty bottle of wine and took two fresh glasses from the cupboard. He smiled mischievously.

“I’m going to take these to the bedroom and get things ready for the second half of our night,” Jim informed. Just as he reached the doorway, he turned back to Spock, “When you’re ready to join me, bring the box of chocolates.”

“Yes, Jim,” Spock agreed, finishing by drying his hands on the towel hanging on the side of the counter.

The search for the chocolate began. Of course, not to Spock’s surprise, they had not been in the simple location on top of the shelf where Spock could easily access them. They were likely pushed into a cabinet or a drawer by accident in Jim’s rush to get things ready for their evening together.

Spock opened a drawer and began to dig through it, finding piles upon piles of papers and envelopes and all sorts of clutter he wasn’t entirely sure why Jim kept throughout the years. It was an emotional downfall of humans to be so deeply tied to material possessions which held no practical purpose in the grand scheme of things.

“Jim, where are the chocolates located!” Spock called off toward their bedroom.

“I think they’re in my study!” Jim called back in an exerted voice, clearly he was busy preparing things for Spock’s arrival. And though Spock did not have the capability to have such emotions, he could not deny the desire he felt to join his bondmate.

He entered Jim’s study and instantly found the large box of chocolates sitting on the top of the desk. As he lifted them he somehow managed to knock the pile of papers sitting to the side and scattered them across the floor. Spock inwardly cursed Jim’s love of antiques and his desire to work with paper rather than reading off his PADD.

Spock knelt down onto the floor and collected them again. Once they were neatly compiled, he decided that a large pile on top of the desk would only create more problems in the future, and so he found a drawer that was nearly half-empty in which to put them.

Before he managed to maneuver the pile in, Spock noticed an old envelope with a broken wax seal on the front. Spock’s name was written in beautiful letters across the front.

He pulled the envelope out and placed the stack of papers within the desk, closing them away.

Was this a letter Spock had received before and simply couldn’t recall? Or was this something someone had intended to give to him but Jim had forgotten to hand over? He doubted it very much, as Vulcans had incredible memories, and Jim would never break the seal to read the letter himself without Spock’s permission.

Spock pulled the papers within it out slowly, and was surprised to see that it was sheet music. He wondered for a moment why someone would bother to send him sheet music without any indication as to why. Finally as Spock turned them over, he noticed Jim’s handwriting on the other side.

He placed the note and the envelope on top of the box of chocolates and made his way to the bedroom. When he arrived he was gifted with the view of Jim lying beneath the silk covers, pouring two glasses of champagne for the both of them.

“Spock,” Jim greeted, placing a glass on Spock’s end table. “You found the chocolate.”

“I have also found something else by accident.” Spock placed the chocolate on the bed, then slid beside Jim under the covers. He handed the envelope and papers to Jim, where he could see all the happiness and excitement on his face disappear and transform into something much more reflective.

“I see,” Jim said as he took the papers into his hands, looking over them briefly.

“I did not read them, as I did not desire to invade your privacy. However, I must admit that I am curious as to what you had written for me, and why it was never delivered properly,” Spock said, leaning his head against Jim’s shoulder. “If you do not wish to share the details with me, I will understand.”

“No, it’s alright. I sort of hoped you would find these one of these days.” Jim placed the envelope on the nightstand and reorganized the papers in his hands. “They were, after all, meant for you.”

“Why did you not give them to me?” Spock asked, his hand feeling Jim’s soft midsection.

“It was around the time you lost your memory when we returned your katra on Vulcan. When I told your parents what I wrote for you, they urged me not to give them to you, and that it would only be problematic for you at that time. But Amanda told me to keep them to myself because it would help me heal,” Jim explained, pulling his reading glasses from the nightstand.

“I would like to know the contents of your letter,” Spock replied, pulling his body closer to Jim’s.

“Alright,” Jim chuckled, kissing Spock on the forehead sweetly. “I haven’t read this in years. I was so emotional when I was writing it, so don’t give me a hard time.” He laughed again, straightening out the papers.

“ _Dear Spock,_

_I love you. There is no other way I can imagine to begin a letter like this without first telling you how much I absolutely adore and appreciate you in my life. You are the essence of my soul, the beating of my heart, and when I think about all the wonderful things our love has encased, I feel sentimental and almost as though I’m falling in love with you again and again… and again…_

_Forever._

_We’ve shared in the best of times, and the worst of times._

_And upon the likeliness that you will remember neither, I would like you to know that even through the difficult times, my love for you has never changed, and when things are said and done, I find myself wanting you more and more._

_I was so much more than your captain or admiral. What we had went far beyond anything I could have imagined with another person. We shared ourselves, our lives, our minds. You are my best friend, you are my most treasured person in the galaxy. I find you closer to me than a brother, and in the end of the day the only word I can use to describe our relationship together is love. Absolute, unquestionable, love._

_You are my husband, my t’hy’la, and more._

_When I lost you, Spock, I felt like part of my soul, the better half, was left somewhere aimlessly in space. I felt guilt and resentment toward you and myself for having let things get too far. When I had to say goodbye, without the ability to touch your face, or hold your hand, it was like I was saying goodbye to the air that I breathe. And to see the man I love more than anything in the entire universe to be sent back into the planet Genesis, it was sending a part of me I would never have again. A part I need to exist._

_It wasn’t easy trying to forget you, Spock. I remember spending sleepless nights thinking of you, trying hard not to fall asleep for fear that I’d believe that you weren’t really gone. For fear I would wake up believing you would be there beside me again, only to be reminded of what the truth was._

_I read books to try to understand how people recovered from a loss like this. Our friends came to me to offer words of advice, and though I’ve lost people I’ve loved before, and I’ve witnessed death closely, it was never this close, or this difficult._

_I finally realized when I was holding the novel you gifted me for my birthday, that I never wanted the pain to go away. If the pain would leave, it would mean that I would forget you._

_Now I’m listening to you play our song. Rhapsody on a theme of Paganini- the eighteenth variation by Rachmaninov, and I find myself needing to apologize to you. For the past few days I was selfishly thinking of myself. How I would forget you, and how was it that I was left alone yet again without you._

_It never occurred to me until I was able to laugh at our memories and weep over our times together, that I realized that I was incredibly lucky to have at least that. When I miss you, or think of you I will be able to remind myself of your smell, your eyes, and the way we fell in love over and over and over again…_

_Forever._

_And I thought that the memories we created together would only burden me, hurt me every time I thought of you, but as the poets say, It’s better to love and lose than to never love at all. And I can remember these times and if I think hard enough, I’ll be able to really remember holding you, really remember your jokes, and really remember what it was like to have you love me too. And it will comfort me._

_You’ll never know how much I love you. You’ll never know how much you loved me. You won’t remember the way I would wait at the end of our laneway with an umbrella in the rain, waiting to walk you inside. You won’t remember the countless nights you lost sleep, aiding to me when I was ill. You won’t remember how our minds had melded the first time, and how it felt. And I feel sorry for you._

_You have always amazed me, Mister Spock. You have always made me feel things no other person could manage to do. You would kiss me and I would be at a loss for words. You would touch me, and I would feel it for hours. You would exist and I would die the most happy I think a man can be._

_You were my husband._

_You play Rachmaninov like a real poet of the piano. You play like I’ve never heard before. The first time you played for me was four years ago, Valentine’s Day. You never were fond of the day, and if truth be told, I never was too crazy about it either. Our love should not come out in full on one day of the year. But regardless, we had attended an anniversary dinner for one of our friends, and managed to walk off. That’s where you played. You would make even Rachmaninov proud with your rendition of the classic._

_It had not been the last you ever played that song for me. Whenever we had the chance and a piano, I begged you to play ‘that one song’, and you would without question._

_You loved the stars, you loved science, and you loved art and music. These are passions you held with you for years and years._

_When you love something that much, you never truly forget it._

_I’d like to think that was why you remembered my name. And though you refuse to use it, I hope you will know that trying to forget is remarkably more painful than trying to remember, as you have displayed for me today on the piano. Just as both our souls were made whole again._

_And that is why I will never forget you, my love. My friend. My husband._

_My Spock._

_Sincerely yours forever,_

_James. Tiberius Kirk.”_

Jim and Spock’s fingers met beneath the blanket. Neither of them knew how to speak after that, and so they both did the only thing they could manage without words. They spoke with their fingers. They spoke with their minds. And neither of them touched their glasses on the nightstand, for they wanted to remember every detail of the night forever and ever.

They wanted to remember falling in love over and over and over again.

Forever.

-

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading ! I hope you all enjoyed this !
> 
> Live Long and Prosper <3


End file.
